The rest of the story is that I have 16 hours to go until I can eat again! So I’m torturing myself more than you.
Here’s a closeup:
2:45 P.M. Sent a message that I was coming up from the studio to get some lunch and evidently lay down for a minute on my bed to rest before going back down to the studio.
8:15 P.M. Awakened, not sure if that was the sunset or the sunrise. Discovered it was the sunset of the third longest day of the year and went to the kitchen to feed the cats. Raining hard. No swim tonight.
10:25 P.M. Sent a message to Forgottenman that somehow the trip to feed the cats had resulted in my cooking a chicken curry, now in the oven and a pot of barley, now in the steam cooker. (Yes, it really did take that many dishes to create the chicken curry and barley!)
11:11 P.M. Sitting down to chicken curry and barley
11:23 P.M. It was delicious! Now, do I go to bed or am I up for the day?
Woke up very early today—around six—and decided to stay up since yesterday Jesus had said they’d come earlier next time to beat the midday sun and also because the rainy season is coming on fast this year and they need to finish painting the murals around the outside of my studio within the week. I thought I’d get my blog written, the animals fed and maybe make them a special breakfast instead of the usual cookies or cake or chocolates that I serve with their morning coffee. (I make Jesus and Eduardo, not the animals, morning coffee with sweet treats. Ha! Thanks to Dolly and Irene for setting me straight on my faux pas.) So, all my tasks finished, I brewed a pot of coffee and started preparations for molletes–one way to use all those beans I cooked earlier this week that seem not to be vanishing at a rapid-enough rate in spite of the fact I’ve had them for every meal since. So, I located the beans in the fridge, sliced a bolillo (small fresh bread loaf) buttered one side of each of the pieces of bread and lay half of the pieces butter-side down on the grill, then layered manchego cheese, beans and manchego cheese before topping them each off with another slice of bolillo, butter side up. When they got here, I would grill both sides for an extra little treat. Half molette, half grilled cheese sandwich, it would be an Americanized version of a Mexican favorite.
Putting the grill on the unlit stovetop, I covered the molletes with a cloth, took my meds, instructed Echo to set my timer for a half hour when I would take the rest of my meds and went to check on my blog. Hmm. 9:15. It seemed as though if they were coming early, they should have been here by now, as their usual time of arrival was 10. It was then that I thought to look not only at the time but the day of the week. Sunday!!!
A full pot of brewed coffee and a grill full of potential molletes–and I a person who had done a smoothie for breakfast for over 30 years and who had to give up coffee 24 years ago! I guess there is always a valid excuse for breaking routine, so in an hour, after I’ve waited to take my second round of meds and waited the prescribed half hour, I will be dining on molletes and real coffee. I’ll have my smoothie for dinner and drink extra water to ward off the bad leg and arm cramps I get when I drink caffeine. The world will not end if I break a few of my own rules.
Click on photos to enlarge and read captions.
I ran a sharp knife around the side of the mug, so I actually didn’t have too much trouble getting my microwave muffin out of its mug, although the bottom 1/4 inch stuck and had to be removed with a spoon. The next time, I’ll oil the bottom of the cup a bit. The muffin isn’t bad and actually isn’t that sweet. I think a lot of the powdered sugar fizzed off onto the bottom of the oven during those initial 12 minutes of time spent in the oven. Once I put them in the microwave, they rose fine, although the mugfin is a bit heavy.
If you don’t know what in the heck I’m talking about, go HERE for an explanation.
I then decided to take a slice of the mugfin and add some of the bran concoction I made last night. It was very sweet and I think I prefer the muffin just by itself. I think the bran/banana/sugar concoction would be good on a blander white poundcake or shortbread cookie–or perhaps toast.
Okay.. I promise. No more banana bread/mugfin posts.
Bananas for Bananas
The ubiquitous banana is long and smooth and yellow—
subtly curving inward, its flavor round and mellow.
In the jungle you can find it in a monkey’s hand,
but when you find it in the market, Chiquita is its brand.
The denizen of smoothies , or dipped in chocolate,
with a banana in your mouth, you will not talk a lot.
You’ll chew and you will savor, perchance to moan and drool.
If you don’t like bananas, you’re a culinary fool.
You can find one that is yellow and pick it from the bunch,
add berries and papaya and savor it for lunch,
but a real banana purist just picks one out and peels it,
then gobbles it up fast before somebody steals it!
This is the state of my banana tree. About time to pick the bunch and hang it up to wait for them to finish ripening.
The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write about fruit.
Reading Nigella’s recipe for lockdown cookies (cookies made with the ingredients you happen to have on hand since the lockdown) I was prompted to give you this recipe for last-minute Microwave Chocolate Cup (literally) Cakes.
I spent a week cooking every day and storing it all away in the freezer at the beginning of my sequestering and now I’m too lazy to do much except write, organize drawers and cupboards and swing in the hammock with Morrie, but when I have a yen for chocolate, I do have this easy recipe for chocolate cake cooked in the microwave in a cup!
1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup white sugar
2 Tablespoons cocoa
1/8 teaspoon soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
3 Tablespoons milk
1 Tablespoon water
2 Tablespoons vegetable oil
1/4 teaspoon vanilla
Mix well in a coffee cup and microwave on high for 1 minute, 45 seconds. (I always cook it longer–2 minutes or more depending on your microwave. I also always wish I had chocolate chips and walnuts to add but never do.) Better with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.
Forgottenman, the bachelor chef extraordinaire, has shared his hamburger secrets which I want to reblog. Go HERE to learn the secret of his success.
In honor of Canadian Thanksgiving and looking forward to ours later this month, this poem is dedicated to Morrie and Diego, who profit from all culinary events in my house:
(Dedicated to Two Hopeful Dogs)
Crying for our leftovers won’t bring you any favors.
You will not taste their textures or masticate their flavors
if you stand there begging. Those winsome looks aren’t working.
Nor are your lapsing manners—your twisting and your jerking.
Hunger doesn’t justify your unwelcome behavior.
Before we even sat down, we saw Grandpa was your savior,
slipping you a turkey leg he had dipped in gravy.
(That leg I’d saved for leftovers–a turkey sandwich, maybe.)
Our home-cooked meal? Delicious. That you already know.
When I cooked the pies, I fed you scraps of dough.
The turkey giblets boiled for gravy, later went to you.
When I cooked the cranberries, you even ate a few.
You licked the pumpkin bowl so clean. You licked the beater blade
when I whipped the cream for pies. Dear ones, you had it made.
So when you beg for leftovers, I’ll just ignore your fuss.
You ate before the guests, dears. Leftovers are for us!